More Than A Caste
by Amaya Loves Joo
Summary: Long ago when the war ripped Cybertron apart, a ship of refugees drifted through space in a small ship. It was years before they were discovered by a rouge Decepticon ship, now with only one survivor in an escape pod to nowhere, a young carrier finds herself as a big loss. [Bumblebee/Oc] [Rape/Non-Con/Blood/Gore]
1. A Very Hard Landing

**Disclaimer: Transformers Prime is the Intellectual Property of Hasbro Entertainment and in no way is this writing intentionally creating a market or profit off of existing copyright laws.**

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Chapter 1- A Very Hard Landing

"I know of only one duty, and that is to love."- Albert Camus

The Pain.

That was all she could feel once the sweet embrace of that which was all black suddenly left her unconscious mind. The white searing feeling of being crushed physically by an extremely large force was very present in this rush of physical ailments she began to experience. There was the feeling of ache, or sore, or wounds that have not yet closed and are still fresh and raw; potentially dripping her precious energon for the entire Galaxy to bear witness to.

Panic.

The first reaction her tired and aching helm that held her overworking processor told her to do, and it assisted her body into doing that very thing, very much against its will as it always would. Her processor was always quicker than her conscious mind, a product of what she was raised to be and all that she ever will.

Her processor began to pump he energon in her veins much faster, it began to order her pain receptors to be dulled, it called for emphasis on the senses that were functional at the moment that would help perpetuate her survival in a deadly situation. It was how she was programmed, some bots destroy, while other retreat for their sparks, she was the latter.

Energon Flow.

All of this was screaming at her to run, to get up and never look back, and all before she could even open her optics.

She could not hold the non-consensual groan that fled her mouth as her body began to work itself into over drive, as she began to become more and more aware of her situation. Memories, from before the darkness, began to become clear as the grogginess began to gradually wear off.

The ship, the raid, the Decepticons… The Carriers… Her best friend…

As soon as these things came flooding back in a big wave of images and sounds, she snapped her eyes open and let out a loud shriek of fear, similar to that of a newly formed protoform who was unwillingly separated from its Carrier sooner than it should have been.

As she unconsciously scooted back on whatever surface she was on, to try and make herself seem much smaller than what she was, she gave no time for her optics to tell her processor what was going on around her, and was set to try and remove herself from whatever situation she was in. Whatever surface was holding her ended after a few feet of scooting backwards with a full force she found herself feeling weightless for a single second.

It caused even more panic as she felt herself fall onto a hard and cold surface. That split second of weightlessness mixed with the unknown of how far off her body was truly from the ground cause a fear so great in her that she did not even have a chance to scream again before she reacted without her processor understanding what was going on.

It would have been a funny occurrence, her falling flat on her back onto the dirty floor, had her processor and energon lines not be working in overdrive in order to protect their vessel and spark from whatever threat she has yet to see. The fall caused not only more pain to erupt from her systems, but another involuntary sound to emerge from her lips, as she could taste the energon creating a small pool on the inside of her mouth. It was old energon that had been used in her systems for many cycles, and it left such a bitter taste in her mouth that it made her glossa feel like it was numb.

She could hear faint voices around her, yelling out different things that her processor couldn't understand, as it all sounded so muffled and distant as if the beings were miles away from her. In another attempt of self-preservation, the small femme began to panic and dove underneath the first thing that appeared to make a decent cover from whatever prying optics were around her.

It worked.

Once a few seconds had passed by she was able to get her bearings back, and she found herself underneath a makeshift looking medical berth, it was held up by sturdy enough beams that she used as a shield for her front, while her back was covered by a solid concrete wall. She noticed how dusty the underneath of this medical table was, and was actually silently thanking primus her seniors were not here to see this. Should her paint get scratched or her protoform bruised it would be a hard punishment to bear.

She leaned forward a little as she heard voice again from behind the sheets that hung off of the berth she fell off from, and found herself in a strange new environment she did not recognize. From her small glimpse she could see the room was large, and in a circular shape, it made her a little bit nervous to even think she was no longer on the ship she had been taking refuge on since she was a youngling leaving Cybertron.

She could also see a makeshift medical exam room; it was rather barren with a few counters full of miscellaneous objects that seemed to have no other purpose but to take up the precious space meant for things more important than they could ever hope to be. From her space she could also spot an incline in the floor with big monitors flashing mostly the color green, as they were too far away to read from her position.

She could tell, however, that the symbols were Cybertronian, so she was not captured by an alien race and going to be dissected for future study, which was a plus in her book. Though it concerned her how the writing was familiar, but the technology was not. It appeared very old and primitive compared to what she was used to seeing whenever she got to leave her small housing facility on Cybertron.

She shrank back and retracted her hand from the sheet as if it had burned the armor on her hand enough to feel it through her protoform as soon as a figure obstructed her view of the room around her. She shrank back and let another involuntary whimper escape her vocal processor as she had no idea who this unknown bot could be.

She remembered something being said to her as a youngling being tutored by her elders that Cybertronian have a natural destroy or retreat reflex left over from their tribal days in order to guarantee their survival. She was the unlucky bot with recessive programing to freeze in a danger similar to a proto-deer caught in the headlights of a cargo bot.

The next thing that she knew she could hear this noise, the low rumble and purr of an obviously powerful engine begin to try and sooth her nerves. It was a sound she was very familiar with, as a lot of Carriers use it to calm down fussy Sparklings and Younglings when they begin to get into small fits of anger or sadness.

Before they were separated, her Carrier used the noise on her very often, and the sound brought more comfort than she thought anything ever could, as she began to feel her processor slow down and allow the rest of her sense to catch up with her vulnerable body.

The other Carriers would laugh at her, falling for such a cheap and easy tactic of comfort and affection, but she could not help what she was conditioned to enjoy. A lot of bots couldn't, it was a sheer sound of love and relaxation, a sound that promised no harm would come to the receiver and that they were in a safe place.

Her spark stopped jumping around in its chamber, as her optics began to focus on the figure emitting the soothing sound from behind the sheet. Though she could not see much from her angle, she could tell it was a large Mech; as he bent down slowly to reveal his face plat to her. He wore a soft and comforting expression to show that he meant the smaller femme absolutely no harm.

He must have been a very powerful Mech, capable of a lot of things… be them good or bad. Her Spark jerked a little as her processor feed that thought to it, and she receded a little and shook her head from side to side indicating she did not want to come out from under the berth. At the moment she felt incapable of using auditory language, and reverted to using physical means to display a message of uncomforting distress.

She saw his faceplate falter slightly, but he fixed it quickly and gave a small sigh and retracted from the small space she was under. She felt he braced himself a little using the berth above her head as it creaked under his massive weight. His shaking must have caused something to fall, as she felt a foreign object touch the small of her back.

She involuntarily yelped and jerked away from the sensation on her back, and that was enough of a chain reaction for her processor to re activate her pain receptor, it was probably the most pain she has ever experienced physically. She had no more power to yelp or cry, but to instead wince loudly and lower herself into a more relaxing sitting position on the floor.

She finally looked down and noticed a lot of dings and dents in her outer armor, all deep and debilitating enough to jab at her bruised and sensitive protoform. She winced as she moved to touch one of the very bad dents located on her chest plate, and began to feel really anxious about how her chassie and leg struts were looking. She began to feel very anxious about her appearance and was not looking forward to the punishment by her seniors.

They would tell her it was fitting for someone like her to look like this, a dusty and dirty ding up hunk of metal that had no place in their world. She would have the dings buffed out enough to where she could move, and left to look like a slob and set for display for the other Carriers to mock and be wary of at the same breath of language.

"Optimus, we can't just leave her under there! She has very serious injuries that need to be looked at immediately."

A voice.

One she had no idea whom it belonged to, but it sounded very upset with the situation. There was more than one mech up there, and she had no idea how to process that information. Was he like the bigger mech, whom was capable of a lot of destruction? She had no real interest in finding out herself, and would be ok just sitting under this dusty berth were that the case.

"We cannot force her either, she already does not trust easily."

Another Voice.

It was demanding, yet somehow retained a certain respectful air to the tone and pitch. Hard, but had a sort of softness underlying the sounds in which they spoke the words. A natural leader, someone programed for great things no doubt.

"If we don't force her, she could potentially die. I didn't get a chance to do a scan for internal injuries!"

She has appeared to have cause another argument.

"I understand, Ratchet, but won't forcing her cause more injuries should she struggle?"

"Maybe someone else can try and coax her out?"

A new voice.

A voice that had experience, pride, and held a little bit of a pushy attitude attached to the vocal sounds that seemed to seep through the processor it originated from. The pitch sounded rather feminine to her, but she has learned her lesson the hard way that voice pitch means little to a bots given body type.

As soon as the voices stopped, she felt herself recoil a little bit more, they were trying to trick her into coming out of her hiding spot. Were they having a private Comm communication so she could not hear whatever it is they were planning on doing with her?

Before more anxious thoughts could reach her processor, she saw a figure stand in front of the berth she was under. It was much, much smaller than the last, as she could see all the way up to their mid chest area. Along with the fact there was relatively no struggle, without the use of the berth for a brace, to kneel down and show her their face plate.

They were a yellow and black Mech, with a mask to cover his face so that nothing but his interesting and under developed optics shown through the slightly dark area of her hiding spot. He undenounced cast a small blue glow under her hiding spot, and she found it somewhat comforting to see the color of blue over red. She was always told uncorrupted bots had optics the color of pure grade energon and that they can always be trusted.

She felt herself coming loose in his presence; there was something comforting about this bot that she could not seem to place. He was young, around the same cycle age as her, and his soft expression spoke volumes to her spark to calm the sporadic movements that were being made in its chamber.

As he too attempted to make the low rumble and purr of his engine to try and soothe her as the mech before him did. He, instead, ended up making a loud revving noise, and she couldn't stop the smile on her face as his expression dropped and the sound of collective groans emerged from around the room. It was the sign she needed to know that everything was going to be ok.

The feeling of curiosity is stronger than that of fear; at least, it is to her. She has always found herself in many bad situations and trouble because her processor absolutely needed to know what was puzzling it so much. One would think she would have learned her lesson, but, as most instructors would say, some lessons just don't seem to process in a Bots processor.

The Mech turned to look behind him, slightly embarrassed and listening to the small protests from around the room, as she felt herself grow more curious as she begin to lean forward a little. Her shaking had stopped, so it was easier to have control over her battered and bruised form without causing more harm to herself. She wasn't sure what her arm was reaching for, but she let her servo reach out towards the strange young Mech in front of her.

He turned his head quickly, and she snapped back in fear and held her servo close to her chest, as if he was going to lash out and hit her. He too began to use physical language to break the barrier between them and allowed for his face plate to drop in regret for moving too quickly and frightening her away.

She saw him shift a little in his spot in front of her, as he was almost lying on the ground in front of her while still giving her enough space to scoot away should she want to. He held his servo a little in front of her, still giving her enough room to reject him should she feel the need to. A classis sign of submission used by bigger mech to show they are not a threat to their smaller counterparts.

Her processor was telling her not to trust him, but her spark was taking in all the kind and small gestures he was performing and doing small flips in its chamber. It was telling her this was not a bad bot, and he held a certain air about him that was similar to that of someone that has always treated her fairly in her life span.

Slowly, and with a shaky servo, she reached out and touched his with a small brush of her finger tips. She retracted a little, and when he didn't respond to her small touch, she decided it was ok to place her smaller servo into his flipped one, palm up to welcome her with a warm piece of armor plating.

She grasped at his wrist lightly, and waited for him to respond, and he did not leave any window of doubt to his intentions. He gave a small tug and a little pressure on her wrist in turn, silently asking for her to come out from her hiding place, and wordlessly communicate that this was a safe place for her to be, that she could trust him and all the bots that were in the room.

She went with her spark on this one, and let it lead her slowly out from under the berth as this Mech gently helped to pull her up onto her shaky peds once her form was emerged from under her hiding place. She stumbled forward a little, and he held his arms out to catch her should she need it, and the gesture alone really sent a good message to her processor.

He was Trustworthy.

For her whole existence, actions and physical communicate have always been the best form of communication and understanding for her. She was not very good at expressing words or comprehension of most things, but she has always had a good sense of morality, along with good optics to read what other bots silently tell her through body language.

"Good job, Bumblebee." The demanding voice praised the young Mech she found herself unconsciously leaning into as he continued to hold her smaller servo in his.

This was the mech from earlier, the very large and powerful one who demanded your respect by simply placing his optics on you. Seeing him now in such close proximity was intimidating, she was very small in comparison and it sent signals to her processor to be wary of him.

Before more words could be exchanged, another bot, a Mech of White and Red-Orange, began to quickly make his way over to the small duo that stood just in front of the berth she first awoke on. It triggered her in a way, as an unknown bot making their way into her space without any indication of intention absolutely terrified her.

She tried to hide, like she always did, though instead of under she chose to be behind the young mech that was still holding her servo in his warmer one. She fell below his shoulders, so she easily dissolved from view behind this juvenile and caring bot. He shifted his servos as well to place on onto her side to try and communicate that everything was alright.

"Maybe try coming over a little slower, Ratchet?" The Young Mech, Bumblebee scolded as she felt his field flare up with protective intent.

His voice.

Or rather, there was no voice.

It was static, static mixed with a series of beeps and jingles that held not enough emotion for her to interoperate well enough on their own. His blips were that of Cybertronian Morse code, a simple way for bots with no voice box to communicate without much stress on their most likely already damaged systems.

"Apologize for trying to save her life!" Ratchet huffed as he pulled out a scanning device as he attempted to push Bumblebee out of the way enough for him to scan her body to see if he could identify any major fuel line leakage.

Bumblebee, she could tell he was a good Mech, silently asked her permission as he turned slightly in her direction enough so she could read the expression on his faceplate. He was empathetic, and could tell that she would rather read faces and emotions rather than hear words and empty promises. He was similar in that way, he preferred silent communicating over his broken voice whenever it was possible.

The little femme looked up at the medic she deduced to be Ratchet, as if to try and find a hidden motive behind what he was trying to really do to her besides a simple scan. She has never had a good track record with medics, and she could not count the number of times on her fingers the complications there were between them and her fellow Carriers.

She was unable to identify anything but a deep concern and helpfulness radiating from the Medic's EM Field, and his pushy behavior really only meant to get his job done quickly. It was a trait most medically trained professionals had, a rush and eagerness to serve and heal others around them.

She stepped a little away from the young slowly, and with purpose in each of her small steps. She wanted to feel safe, and safety was only processing when she was around the younger mech she had learned to trust.

Once she stood enough away from him, but still close enough to jump back should she need to, Ratchet began his scan that took a little too long for her liking. Full body scans always made her feel uncomfortable, as it made one feel like any bot could just read into her body and find all the small things wrong with them.

The small blue opaque light slid up and down the surface of her armor while the machine beeped quietly to indicate what type of reading the machine was reading. The light was beautiful in its own right, as it helped many medical staff to find what was wrong internally, but it could only point out the physical flaws and completely skipped over that which was mental.

As soon as the machine was shut off, she jumped back and hid her small form behind the yellow and black mech, as he looked down to her and she saw him smile thankfully with his brightly lit optics. He appeared to her as such a kind and gentle spark, someone with no secrets and a genuine love for his fellow bots around him. His optics and expressions will always speak louder than any words he could squeak out would, as it was with most Cybertronians.

"Good news, it's not as bad as I suspected." Ratchet began "For someone who crashed here in an escape pod, you're lucky."

She stopped.

Escape Pod?

Was that how she got here? She can't seem to recall anything beyond now, past the small images and sounds that startled her awake a few moments ago. Vaguely she can remember an incident… Was there fire? There was definitely yelling and screaming…

She jumped as her thoughts were interrupted by the young bots sudden movements that made her spark jump in her chamber a little, but she let air flow through her vents as she realized it was just him turning to look at her with a little concern.

It caught her off guard, and she flinched a little from the small pain caused by her placing her servos together near her chest, as she looked up at him with confused optics. She was remembering some things, and it caused her energon to flow faster again, as the anxiety began to set in more and more.

Where is Rivulets? Where was her best friend Rivulets?

Her optics grew as she realized a little what happened to her before her crash landing wherever she was. Her processor telling her that he was dead and her spark telling it to be quiet and that they just messed up and got lost somehow. Her spark was screaming louder than her processor ever could, and she began to blame herself for something she had no control over.

Bumblebee noticed her optics begin to gloss over a little with rapid spouts of shaking and twitching beginning to flow through her smaller frame. From what he could tell she was reliving a terrible memory, as it was something he has seen in warrior bots having flash backs to traumatic battles.

That was when he noticed something so small but a big cause of concern.

"Ratchet?" the young mech beeped as he began moving his servos slowly on the smaller femme's shoulders, to show he was concerned about her and attempt to keep her calm. "Her optics are pale, is there something wrong?"

"Energon deficiency." He said simply as he typed away on a data pad he had in his servos "Results of ingesting old or nutritionally inefficient Energon over a long course of time."

"How long have you been in that escape pod, little one?" The big mech, the one with a demanding voice asked. He was obviously their leader, as when he spoke everyone around stopped to turn and hear what he had to say.

She shrugged as she came back from whatever it was she was trying to remember, and it was with honesty, as she was not sure what was even happening in the present moment anymore. She vaguely remembers feeling trapped in a small space with no hope of escape… but she doubted it was from the escape pod, as literal tight spaces don't bother her. It is always mental tight spaces that affected her more than anything physical.

The feeling of being trapped inside one's own head, on a loop that seemed to never end of bad and toxic thoughts that the processor subjected itself too. Her loops were always the same thoughts of uselessness, ungratefulness, and undesirability. Always the terrible three things that make her wish she had never been sparked in the first place.

"We traced your escape pod to its landing position once it broke through Earth's atmosphere." The bigger bot began to explain "Once we arrived, you were unconscious and buried underneath the wreckage. Any files inside the ship were lost, so we ask you for any details you may remember."

She stalled, and felt herself lean into the young mech in front of her for more physical support, she felt so tired all of the sudden. The Mech was more than happy to oblige her need for physical comfort, as he knows how important kindness and warmth can be too many bots in bad situations. He would sometimes also wish for more physical affection at times, but he was a warrior class bot, and should not be allowed to feel such trivial needs such as comfort and physical affection.

She began to shake and tremble again as feelings of anxiety and severe stress began to invade her processor once again. Her spark was thrashing in its chamber as it was reacting to what her processor was telling her body to react to. She had no idea why she was feeling this way, and maybe it was better off her memory core was drawing a blank at the moment.

Bumblebee, the young mech she felt a connection too, took immediate action in turning his body closer while holding her close. While she was burying her helm completely in his arms, covering her from the stresses of the outside world as she felt the sting of leaking from her optics in the form of tears. Allowing her a both physical and mental place to hide, he was also in turn trying to establish a silent relationship with the little femme. He will show that he can be her shelter and shield form any and all forms of anything that might prove to be too much of a challenge for her to handle alone.

He had no idea why he was trying so hard to keep this little femme calm, he had no idea who she was or where she even came from. It was outside of his programming as a warrior to be as comforting as he has been, but he let his body do what he felt was right to try and calm her before she had another break down like before.

Her venting began to slow, her spark began to calm, and her processor began to relax. She felt herself slowly stop shaking, and she was grateful for the comfort of physical contact. She closed her optics and took a deep vent in through all of her working systems and began to relax a little with the soothing void that lay behind her closed lids.

The darkness…

The comfort of quiet and nothing, it was not always a sign of pain and disorientation, as most times to some bot like her it was a sign of the quiet and serenity her small world had to offer. It was a comfort and promises that there will be a light soon to follow the seemingly endless black void, but for the moment you are there is that of peace and time to think, and enjoy the lasting silence surrounding.

It took a few minutes for her to completely calm, the Medic informing the leader that it is best for the femme to relax and rest and be patched up before she delves into a potentially painful and repressed situation. The rest of the bots agreed, and dispersed to continue with whatever it was that they have been assigned to do.

Bumblebee did not let go of her until the shaking was completely halted, and her vents stopped releasing large intakes of air. It was a relief once he saw her re open her dimly lit optics to look up at him with this certain serenity and peace as if she had nothing wrong with her at all.

The medic, Ratchet, asked for her to return to the berth so that he may begin working the dents out of her armor plating that he doubted were very comfortable to bear. She agreed, but continued to hold onto the one thing that promised comfort in this unknown place she found herself. She could hear the begrudged medic remark about how much of a problem she was going to be as she pulled Bumblebee along to follow her to the berth from earlier.

This also brought her comfort, in a little ways; this grumpy mech who had a concern for her wellbeing so much that he would scold her harshly for her bad behaviors reminds her of someone she used to know on Cybertron. He, too, was always upset when bots placed themselves in danger for no reason and allowed his concern to show not through kindness, but anger and distraught frustration. It was poetic, in a way, they care so much that it surfaces not as calm and kindness, but frustration and huffiness.

She felt a little better, making that comparison, and let go of Bumblebee enough to allow her to be pulled up onto the berth as the uncomfortable process began. It was both relieving and uncomfortable to have the dents no longer causing pressure on not only her protoform, but her joints she had no idea were sore until some nasty bent metal was reshaped into its original form.

"Thank you." She squeaked out as soon as Ratchet turned around and she was able to grab Bumblebee's arm yet again, he was kind enough to not leave her side while the medic worked on her small frame. She curled up while pulling her legs up to her chest and looking around with a little caution in her optics again.

"Your welcome" He said distantly as he began doing what seemed to be a medical record on the same data pad from before "do you remember your designation?"

"Yes." She replied while gripping Bumblebee a little tighter, and he relaxed his arm to allow her the flexibility of pressure should she need it. She was not squeezing tight enough to cause him any kind of pain. "I am designation Dulcet, of Carrier faction K-3-98."

Bumblebee stalled as soon as the words left her mouth, as he watched Ratchet just type away on his data pad probably putting away her designation and faction away for later usage. He wasn't fazed at all to find that this femme was a carrier, but it was both a scary and amazing revelation to be had. In fact, it caught everyone's attention in the room to stop all conversation to pay attention to their conversation.

They all presumed the carriers dead, after the Decepticons bombed all of their sectors in the cities around Cybertron, whether they were Autobots or neutrals. He had heard about a few factions fleeing off planet before they could be destroyed, but communications was lost with all vessels very quickly, and most bots lost hope that any carriers made it very far without energon supplies or military support.

He was always told carriers were at the bottom of the priority list behind Sparklings and younglings but he had no idea why. Carriers are the only bots around that can create Protoforms without the use of the Allspark, and no one has seen or heard wind of the life giving crystal in so many cycles that everyone was starting to lose hope for the repopulation of Cybertron.

"Just as I though, a small and weak carrier… but a carrier none the less-" Ratchet said as he looked up from his pad, putting it away in his subspace compartment.

"… What are you going to do with me?" She interrupted with an almost dead pan tone, while releasing all pressure she place on Bumblebee's arm. This caused him to panic a little, as he was shocked at this sudden change in the otherwise very jumpy and scared femmeling.

He couldn't place his finger on what suddenly changed in her, but he saw almost all the life leave her optics and be replaced with what looked like a barricade to whatever trust and comfort she may have has between her and the rest of the bots in the room.

"For now, nothing" Ratchet began as he reached over into a box nearby to grab a rather small portion of cubed energon. He shifted all around his make shift med bay as he began to mix and pour different things Bumblebee couldn't identify into the small cube.

He began to shake the cube of energon roughly, changing it from the normal brilliant blue color into a dull pink that matched her armor color to a tee. Bumblebee has never seen Ratchet do this before, and felt compelled to ask what he was doing with a perfectly good cube of energon.

"Well, what are you doing now?" Bumblebee beeped out as he watched Ratchet turn towards them rather quickly, which cause Dulcet to jump and grab onto his arm again.

She might have lost trust with Ratchet, but not with Bumblebee.

"Creating a very mineral rich Energon mixture for our friend here, her levels are dangerously depleted and this will fill her tanks enough not to make her sick while giving her the nutrients her body is craving." Ratchet began "It will also help her self repair programs to come back and finish some of the repairs I wasn't able to get too."

It was a good enough answer for Bumblebee, as he took the rather small cube from the medic and handing it over to the tiny femme that was clinging to him harder the closer the medic got to them. As she took the cube she gave it an odd look and held off on drinking it for a minute to decide whether or not she really needed it. It made Bumblebee a little antsy, watching her examine the fluid; she obviously needed it and was in dire need of nutrition.

Finally, however, she slowly began to drink the small amount in little sips, as to not force her body to take what it can't process. She had no idea this medic knew the compound for carriers, let alone the compound needed to keep her healthy. Carriers needed more protein in their diets than other bots to help them grow Protoforms in their gestation chambers, and she was certain carrier care was a very specific practice on Cybertron.

Once the cube was empty, Ratchet took the husk and put it back in its original place near his work station, as well as separate some other containers of compounds that looked really familiar to her in some way.

"Bumblebee, it would be best if you stayed here with her for a while" Ratchet explained "I feel like I don't need to explain the importance as of why"

"I will take care of it, Ratch." Bumblebee exclaimed while nodding his head at the Autobot Medic, as this was now a mission that he was not going to fail.

"Good, I need to speak with Optimus about this and see if we can get to the bottom of this." Those were the final words spoken once he left the general facility of the medical corner of this smallish base.

After he and Optimus the others began to dissipate into their own lives to continue doing whatever it was that they decided was important. Their curiosity would have to wait to be fulfilled until Ratchet and the Prime figured out what to do with her.

No words needed to be said as she began to cuddle up closer to Bumblebee, whom only returned her affection with just as much force. She was safe here, carrier or not, he would make sure she would be kept safe and happy.

Not because it was his programming telling him to, but because it was the right thing to do. Not because of whom she is and what she is able to accomplish that the rest of them were unable to do.

* * *

 **This was something completely out of nowhere that I really really needed to get out of my brain. I wasn't going to publish it but I think I can make something from this little thing.**

 **EDIT 8/15/16 \- Completely rewritten to make more sense and read better as a whole chapter without jumping around and sounding like repetitions. (The other chapter is currently being re written as well)**


	2. New Isn't Always Bad

Chapter 2- New isn't Always Bad

"All change is not growth, as all movement is not forward." -Ellen Glasgow

It was all a blur, just one big blur.

She blames it on her tired body losing itself to the glory of unconsciousness.

It might have been a good thing; really, with her body fully at rest her spark and processor would be more likely to sync together in motivations. It always helped her to focus on the now, rather than the what was to come, recharge always managed to keep her grounded.

However, it felt that every instance in which she allowed herself a recharge, she awoke to something being different than it was when she laid herself down for a rest. She knows it is unhealthy to go for long periods without allowing your body a chance to idol and recalibrate itself, but deep down something always stopped her from doing it.

Maybe it was because of now.

Her optics came online as her systems informed her that all of her parts were ready to be used at their maximum efficiency. That she was running on energon that was better than anything it has ingested in a long time, and that all of her plating issues had been worked out and she was able to move without any painful protoform burn.

Though, when she awoke, she indeed found herself in the same small base she remembered. Though, the young mech with no voice, Bumblebee was nowhere to be seen. The medic, Ratchet, was gone from her sights as well, and it made her feel rather uncomfortable.

Maybe it was her deeply rooted fear of change.

Maybe it was her paranoia acting out again.

She had no idea, but those feelings of loneliness and fear began to creep into her conscious and awake mind, and they felt so intense since she was able to recharge. It was tugging at her spark, which began to shrink itself into its chamber that was barley protected by chassie armor.

She and the other carriers did not really have tough outer armor like the warriors did, as it was deemed unnecessary. The general consensus on Cybertron was that carriers would be highly protected at all times, and were in no immediate danger of attack or annihilation.

She always had to remind herself, not all carriers were child rearers.

This caste was one of the most fragile and unfair of most, it could promise great care and love, or it could promise great pain and uselessness. The Child Rearers were considered an upper class caste; at least, the carriers with the best genetics and the best sparkling skills, the rest were treated as disposable garbage, much like the unit she was placed in.

Still, despite being considered the most wasted space of all the carriers, her unit found itself protected once the war began to rage on Cybertron. The neutrals, the ones who promised most protection to them, guaranteed their safety. When she was finally bold enough to ask why, their answer was very simple; because no one was stupid enough to kill off the only production abilities the Cybertronians had.

It made sense, in a weird way. Her facility was located outside of Kaon City, and was in a rather protected area behind a great wall that disconnected her caste from the others around them. The neutrals would be protected here, and they could care for the carriers as well, ensuring that after this petty war was complete they would come out heroes.

Praise for saving so many of the carriers, for protecting what they believed in with much strength and courage. It was a guarantee to elevation to higher status, and so the neutrals cared for them, as best they could. She appreciated it, really, as they did their best. It was a doomed effort from the start, as the war continued to grow more and more as the cycles flew by.

She remembered, when the news that the All-spark was missing from Cybertron, that there would be no more production of Energon or Protoforms… she remembered… There was much argument from the neutrals as to their fate. Most of their protectors picked a side of Autobot or Decepticon, and the neutral party grew smaller and smaller. It appeared that they decided the need for child rearers became less of a need… and more of a liability.

The walls around her facility fell, and many had found their fate when a clash of the two sides waged itself right inside of the building. She could recall fire, explosions, and the feeling of her entire world falling around her. Rivulets, her only friend in a world of nothing but a painful existence mixed with a few happy moments, took her and fled from the scene without much warning.

There was so much change after that… so much.

Those feelings creeped up onto her again, as she felt her spark tighten and her processor stall, it was a really uncomfortable feeling. Her servos began to shake as she placed them together and held them close to her spark chamber. She wanted to tell them both it would be ok, but she couldn't find the hope or honesty in herself to say those things, even to herself.

If that even makes any sense.

She looked around as she sat up, scanning the room around her. She was in the same berth, located in the same corner by the big machine she was surprised she did not notice before. She has seen it before in many Medical offices, she had no idea what they were called, but she knows they had many uses.

She heard no movement, and she saw no shadows.

It was a little scary to think she was completely alone in a new place without so much as a warning as to where every bot might have gone. She did not truly know them, and she did not truly know Bumblebee, but she has learned over the Vorns that sometimes it is a good thing to not know everything about someone.

It was then she heard the small beeps, it sounded like someone working on a keyboard. The beeps were soft and quiet, almost undetectable to someone who was not trained to hear and notice small noises such as that. It was both a blessing and a curse, to notice small details that could or could not mean something.

As the sound continued, she felt her curiosity programming begin to kick in, and she found herself wanting to know who seemed to be the only other bot in the entire facility. As before, at least by her delirious account, there were at least five bots in this place. Though, she has been known to be wrong before, and she can't trust anything her optics sees sometimes. The old saying goes that the optics can be tricked so easily.

Her processor was telling her to stay put, pretend to be in recharge, let them reveal their plans to her when they were ready to. Her spark disagreed, and said investigate; find out where you are and how to proceed from the information she finds. Back to the old game of whom she should listen to, and she felt herself grow weary with each argument they threw at her.

Do other bots have this issue? Rivulets said they do, but she doubted it was as strong as her pulls.

Before she had more time to argue with herself, she saw movement coming from the big console in the center of the room. The figure just simply walked back and forth, grabbing and setting various tools and parts up and down with purpose in each movement.

It was the Medic, Ratchet.

She went with her spark, as standing around did absolutely nothing for her at this moment, and she absolutely hated feeling like she had no purpose in a facility. She was breed to be productive, to care for others, and she can't accomplish that by simply standing and observing.

She clenched her armor close to her protoform, almost painfully so, as she began to walk slowly away from the small comfort of the berth that she has claimed as her own. It was a big step for her, as she was always taught, violently, to never push or over step the boundaries put in place for someone like her.

She made it all the way to the Autobot symbol on the floor before she stopped to observe her new surroundings. There were a lot of control panels and consoles, with technology that looked fairly simple and not something she had ever seen on Cybertron before. What really caught her attention though was the small seating area with a few scattered baubles about on a catwalk near the big consol.

It was way too small for even a Sparkling to enjoy, and it seemed like it was so out of place compared to everything this base seemed to represent. She felt the vibe of seriousness in the air, the drive to both survive and thrive in a less than habitable environment for their species.

She had no idea where they were, if they were on a planet somewhere, or if they were just floating about in a small space station somewhere. The bots earlier said she crash landed, so she was assuming they were on another planet somewhere, which made her a little sad.

She had no idea how far away she was from Cybertron.

Her home, the very one ravaged by civil war and anger over the dishonesty amongst those whom were in charge of the major decisions that would affect everyone on the planet. It made sense, as it was the way of progression, as peace was never something that lasted for a long period of time. Even someone like her understood that, she just wished that it was something that did not happen in her life span… something that she would never have to see or experience.

"Ah, good, you're up." She heard Ratchet say, as he was busy working on the wiring of a control panel.

She said nothing as she just simply looked up to his much larger frame a ways away from her. He was an older mech, someone who had much experience and confidence in what he did, as he carried himself high. Shoulders up, hard focus on the task at hand, and not needing to turn around to look at some bot to know they were listening to his words.

He reminded her of the protoform specialists on Cybertron, the ones who held no doubt in their skills and understanding of how to do what they needed to do. Ratchet seemed to know what she needed earlier, with the energon, and it raised the question in her mind of how he knew what it was she needed without having to be told.

Sparkling and Carrier care was a highly special trade on their home world, and required a lot of schooling and training. It was a high honor amongst the health care community, or at least, that is what all of her care givers told her whenever she was courageous enough to ask.

"I wanted to ask you a few questions, if you are comfortable enough to answer them." Ratchet continued, as he placed the tools he was using down and retrieved the data pad he had stored away in his subspace compartment.

She said nothing as she took a few steps forward, and allowed her plating to relax a little to relieve the soreness of her protoform. The medic, Ratchet, has made no indication he means her harm. Her survival programing began to shut down, slowly, which made her feel a little bit relieved.

"S-sure" She began "If I can answer it…"

"Good, when was your last upgrade?" He asked as he began to type something on his data pad.

"Physical? Or?" She asked as she lifted up her helm to meet his gaze.

He held no hostility or judgement in his faceplate, and she could not read any malice or ill intent in his optics. She felt her plating completely relax as she held her servos together to her chest. Maybe… maybe she could trust this mech as well.

"Any upgrades you can remember would be helpful." He said as he turned all his attention back onto his patient.

She spoke slowly, and with reason, as she described the last upgrade she had was physical. It was right before the war began to break out around her and her facility. She got a basic upgrade for someone her age; it was enough for her protoform to continue to grow into until she would get her final plating when she reached full maturity. She still wasn't at her full maturity, and she figured he already knew that much about her form.

She also decided to add that the last processor upgrade was when she became a youngling, when the medics installed her virus protection software and fire walls to keep her safe from any outside tampering someone might want to perform. It was a basic upgrade that every Cybertronian had, but she mentioned it anyway just in case she might be missing some important processor part.

It would explain why her processor differed so much from her spark.

"That is good, at least, are your nanites fully functional?" He asked as he began to make notes on the data pad of the information se was giving him.

He had no reason to believe she is lying, and he noticed that maybe she was finally starting to warm up to him. That was good, because now maybe he can prod her for more information about where she is from and how she ended up on that crash course escape pod.

"They should be, at least, my personal diagnostics say so." She said as she gently tapped her chassie to symbolize that she thought they were fully operational. "Both protoform and colorant are running at optimal levels."

She watched a little as she slightly scratched her chassie light enough to watch the nanites react immediately and begin to repair the small damage done to her outer frame. She watched as the small white streak turned back into one of a dull pink.

"All that is left than, it appears, is a few updates to your firewall and virus protection." Ratchet said as he continued to type out things on his data pad.

"Right now?" She asked as she pressed her plating back against her protoform tightly. She was not really in a mood to hook up to a machine and have the mech dig around inside her processor. It was a scary enough concept to have any bot do it, let alone a stranger she had just met.

"It would be easier to get it out of the way now-" Before he could finish, an alarm began to sound and she froze in place as her optics began to scan the are quickly while trying to make herself involuntarily seem much smaller than she really was.

"Don't worry" Ratchet began as he cut the alarm short "It's just the proximity alarm. Optimus is back from his patrol"

She stood up a little straighter as the sound stopped, but she felt more comfortable once she had backed up enough to be wedged in between a wall and some crates that were located nearby. She watched as a big vehicle came driving in slowly from a nearby corridor. Once it was parked, it transformed into the tall mech from before, the one who was their leader.

He took a moment to take in his base, as he might have felt something was a little different from usual, and his optics spotted her hiding behind the crates that held a few of Ratchet's extra tools. He let his face plate relax as he tried to make himself look as least threatening as someone of his size and stature could.

Bumblebee shared with him that this little carrier femme, this Dulcet, responds better to physical signals than anything else. It made sense in a way, as she seemed to be a very skittish and small youngling. She was in that in between age, just like Bumblebee, not fully matured but not exactly a youngling.

She leaned out of her spot a little bit to see what he was up to, which was a good sign to the Prime. He had confidence that she will eventually become comfortable enough here to walk around freely without jumping at any little noise that would occur at any given time.

"How was patrol, Optimus?" Ratchet asked as he placed his data pad back into his subspace compartment.

"Nothing to report, old friend, and the Decepticon activity has slowed drastically." Optimus responded as he walked closer to Ratchet, fully aware that the femme was watching him with a very intense gaze. "Where are the others?"

"I sent them away before Dulcet would awake. I didn't want them to scare her; she would have not come out otherwise." Ratchet said as he picked up the tools from before and began to work on the control panel before she entered the room.

"Well done, Ratchet." Optimus said as he turned towards the small femme, who jumped back behind the crates a little as he turned suddenly.

"Move slowly, and try to speak softly." Ratchet whispered as he saw from the corner of his optics that she jumped away.

"Understood." Optimus whispered back as he held out his servo fully in front of him, as he took slow and purposeful steps towards her hiding spot.

Once she noticed, she felt herself try and be as small as possible, which wasn't hard when once compared her to someone like Optimus. She would barley reach above the length of his leg, as she was meant to be as small and compact as possible. It was easier to keep control over carriers that way, when they were smaller and weaker than other Cybertronians.

Once he was close enough, Optimus crouched down on one knee, and began to emit the low engine rumble from before, a sound of sheer comfort and understanding as he just stared at her patiently with his servo out and a small smile on his face plate. The sound was enough to draw her out and look up at the bigger mech. She reciprocated the sound softly, as she took a few steps forward to place her much smaller servo into his.

She retracted quickly, as she made contact with him, but when he did nothing but be still and continue his look of patience and sounds of comfort. She slowly placed her servo in his, fully this time, as she looked up at him with optics full of confusion and fear. It was normal; at least it has always been, for carriers to be a little weary of unknown bots coming into their established place of residence.

He knew that carriers were very protective creatures, especially if they had already been sparked; their programming was more likely to kick in and make them somewhat feral. They were hard wired that way, in case anything happened to their off spring, they could tap into their reserves and escape and find safety in any way possible.

Once she placed bother servos in his hand, he began to close his own and give her a gentle squeeze of reassurance. He remembered all this form when he was a Sparkling; it was something his care givers used to always do for him whenever he became fussy or uncontrollable.

It seemed to be working, as he could see the fear melting from her dull optics, but the confusion remained on her faceplate. He knew it was to be expected, as so far she hasn't seemed to recall why she was in that escape pod or where she might have even originated from. He knew she was old enough to remember Cybertron, but he feared that maybe her memory might have been damaged in the crash. Ratchet said it was possible, but doubtful, and that she was most likely still in shock from all the excitement of the other day.

"Young Dulcet, my name is Optimus Prime" He began as he saw her look up at him with eve more confusion "This is our Outpost located on the Planet Earth, a very far travel away from Cybertron."

"P-Prime?" She asked as she began to shake a little bit in his loose grasp. He noticed this and was about to ask Ratchet over to examine her, but he never go the chance as she flung herself out of his grasp and kneeled down in front of him.

"My-my humblest apologies, my Prime" She said as she felt her optics begin to lubricate out of fear "I-I was raised better than to disrespect someone in such a powerful position. I don't want to cause any trouble for you, as I am not fit to be in the same room as someone of your status."

She was shaking harder now, as she kneeled so far in front of him that her faceplate was parallel to the floor beneath her. It was appropriate, as she was the lowest of carrier status, they were never meant to interact, let alone him try and comfort someone as pitiful as she. Punishment was certain to follow, as she braced herself for whatever physical immobility was going to meet her.

"Dulcet." She heard her designation being called, but shook her head quickly as she pressed her faceplate to the floor, she was not worthy of being in the same facility as he, let alone be allowed to look upon him.

Standard protocol states that only the elder carrier of the facility is allowed to interact with anyone of a higher caste than they found themselves in. She had no idea where the rest of her facet was located, but she would not be caught dead disrespecting someone as high as a Prime.

She flinched as she felt a large servo place itself on her shoulder, and then another on her waist. She began to whimper on top of shake as she felt herself become seemingly weightless, as the ground beneath her began to grow more and more distant. This was not what she was expecting, but she continued to hold her plating tightly to her protoform.

"Sweet spark" She heard the Prime say as she was shifted in his hold so she was being held closely to his chest with one arm, as she instinctively reached out and grabbed onto whatever piece of his plating was closest to her, the fear of her falling out of his grip very imminent as she began to whimper more and more. Oh, if her elder could see her now she would receive such an intense reprimanding-

"You are not out of line, little one." Optimus began, as he continued to emit the sound of comfort in an attempt to calm her down enough for her to listen to his words. Her shaking ceased, but he could still hear her whimpering lightly and hiccupping from the lubricant that was leaking from her optics, it was a fear response most Cybertronian carriers possessed.

"The line between Prime and citizen has been eradicated, the caste system demolished. We are on the same level" He watched as she looked up at him with a lot of confusion and hurt, as the lubricant began to cease itself for the moment. Her armor was still pressed tightly to her protoform, but he saw her give him her full attention.

"It has been this way since everyone fled from Cybertron, after everything went dark" he stated as he felt her curl into his hold. She really was very small, even for a femmeling her age.

"Not everywhere…" She said quietly as she tried to recompose herself from the fear of harsh punishment. Her processor began to numb her sensors so she would not feel so much pain, and her spark braced itself against its chamber preparing for the inevitable jostling it was going to feel from her action.

"If you wish to share than I am willing to listen, my Sweet spark." Optimus said with a simple tone. He will not force her to share information she was not willing to give, but he will let her know he is ready to listen whenever she feels the need to share any kind of information.

"My-my Facet, led by elder Dalliance, - I can't remember." She said as she could recall clearly her elder's faceplate and designation. "I know, he lead us off world after Kaon went silent." She began to strain her memory, probably more than she should, as she tried to recall what had happened after they left Cybertron.

She knows something happened, as she begins to explain remembering boarding a small ship space bound to anywhere but Cybertron and its nearby colonies. She recalled her and the rest of her facet of twenty other child rearers were aboard that ship, along with a few Autobot mercenaries who found them hold up in an old building outside of the Decepticon capitol.

She explained how they were all shoved into tiny rooms, and how the chain of command was very much alive on board the small space shuttle. She was one of the lowest and youngest of the caste, so she was last to receive energon, if any at all. She was also last priority for things like medical treatment and recharge.

Rivulets, her most dear friend and companion was second to the Elder. He always stuck up for her in any way that he could, and it angered the rest of the carriers on board. She spent most cycles cramped inside a small room or space, left until someone remembered she was there and decided to feed her or check on her fairing state.

"Then… It happened so quickly… I-I can't" she began to shake again, as she remembered something really bad happened to the small shuttle her and her facet found themselves on. She remembers feeling scared, feeling angry, feeling like she was going to die.

There is no real way to explain it, the feeling of near death, the feeling of ones spark beginning to lose itself in so much chaos and destruction that it just decides it no longer want to function the way it was designed to. The feelings of the processor begin to shut down and fall into itself as the conscious mind becomes useless in any survival situation, as basic primal instincts begin to kick in.

"Dulcet." Optimus bellowed as he saw fear and anger rise into her optics. He did not want her to push herself, and she somehow end up injured because of a process repressed memory. He has seen many good bots fall into a type of stasis loop lock, as there is nothing you can do for them except put them out of their misery.

"Please, do not strain yourself, Sweet spark. You need rest and Energon." He said as he would not allow this femmeling to fall victim to a terrible fate such as loop lock. He stood up straight and walked over to their makeshift medical bay, and gently placed her on the berth she woke up upon.

He handed her one of their luxuries none of the other bots really used, a purple blanket that had black stripes printed on it. It was one of the things that were in the base when they first moved in all those cycles ago. None of the other bots were small enough to use it, but it appears that Dulcet was just the right size to hide her underneath it.

She, without question, wrapped herself in the large piece of fabric as she had another pink colored energon cube placed in her lap. She felt her processor finally cease its onslaught of negative information, and her spark stopped jumping around in its chamber without purpose.

Safety was the word she was thinking, and it was starting to become the biggest thing she felt in the presents of the Prime.

* * *

 **These chapters feel rather short, but it's the best I can do right now with my carpal tunnel acting up. I am not totally sold on this chapter, but the next one should have more progression and Bumblebee.**

 **I am just trying to hurry and push Dulcet into a sense of safety so she can finally interact with the others easier.**


End file.
